


Slave

by Doritato



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Partner Betrayal, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doritato/pseuds/Doritato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can choose to end this now." Washington had told him. So what if he did? What if Locus refused his orders?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slave

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this before episode 19 came out on fanfiction.net and such, but never got around to posting it here. Pity.
> 
> This was inspired by the episode itself and an analysis post on Tumblr. Enjoy.

Locus can never recall a time where he was as conflicted as he was here.

He walks alongside Felix with his trademark sniper rifle in hand, approaching what was known as the Purge Temple. The backdrop for the location is perfect; there is a stormy sky colored a bloody crimson, and what ground they can stand on was black and charred. In a twisted attempt to brighten up the place, jagged crystals dominated the landscape. The only thing that doesn't seem so uninviting is the temple itself and the light bridge leading to it. It is a perfect setting, considering the nature of the place. It is also a perfect reflection of the conflict within Locus's heart.

He isn't sure who he hates more. Agent Washington, who had taken the very way he thought about himself and turned it on its head? Felix, who was so willing to damn their men for the sake of carrying out Chorus's execution? Himself, for getting caught in such thoughts? He was supposed to be a soldier, resolute and firm in his mission, and here he was questioning everything. He was supposed to be nothing more than a suit of armor and a gun, and yet he was not behaving as such. This was the way it had to be. He was being childish, and Washington was doing nothing more than getting under his skin. That's all there was to it. That's all there had to be to it.

Right?

No matter how much he tries, he is unable to push these thoughts from his head even as they near the temple. But he finds himself instantly shoving them aside when he sees two familiar figures standing in opposition to him and Felix, his blood running cold. He barely hears the vocalization of shock from Felix to show he isn't the only one sharing thoughts of awe.

“Hello, boys.” Agent Carolina drawls, standing beside Agent Washington. Their guns are in hand, ready to be raised and fired at the two mercenaries at a moment's notice.

At any other time, they would've been just two enemies that needed to be dispatched before the main objective could be complete. But after everything that happened – that mind-blowing encounter with Washington, the exchange he had with Aiden Price, Felix's decision to activate the Purge Temple in spite of his own allies and his recent exchange with the alien A.I. - they became something more than that. No, only one of them became something more than that. While Carolina is little more than another foe, Washington had become an obstacle to both Locus's mental and physical form. He is the Achilles' Heel to Locus's entire thought process, and the very sight of him is enough to send his mind closer and closer to the edge.

_You keep trying to play yourself off as some sort of weapon, that you don't care about anyone or anything. But the fact that you're trying so hard to understand me breaks up your entire act!_

**It's not an act. I am a soldier. I am following my orders.**

He is amazed at himself for keeping his cool, his tone reflecting just that. “So you've chosen to make a final stand.” He states matter-of-factly, trying to keep himself within the game.

Even from the distance they are at, he can see the blue light of the A.I. that pops in between Washington and Carolina. “And you two couldn't resist a rematch.” He responds casually.

With the feeling that this would just lead to back and forth banter between the two groups, Locus makes the effort to skip straight to the inevitable fight. “Admirable,” He says dismissively. “But hopeless.”

Mentally, he makes sure to go for Washington first. From this distance, it wouldn't be too hard to raise his sniper rifle and plant a shot into his cranium before Carolina had a chance to react. That is all he needs, and he wouldn't have to deal with these thoughts of interference. He wouldn't have to deal with anyone questioning his ideology anymore. He was a soldier, and he would carry through with his mission, no matter what the cost. His fingers tighten on his weapon, preparing to follow through with it--

“Think about what you're doing!” Washington insists, stepping forth and stopping Locus from performing his self-purification. He couldn't have been more thankful to have his helmet on, for even at this distance, he is sure they would've otherwise seen the grimace that came across his expression. He is somewhat surprised Felix had not heard the slight hiss that involuntarily came from his mouth.

**I already have.**

“If you activate the tower, it kills _everyone_. Our soldiers _and_ yours.”

_I know. Why do you insist on repeating it to me? I know what I'm doing. Why can't you just--_

“That's war, Wash. Not everyone makes it back.”

And then Felix says that. Locus feels his expression contort into a mixture of shock and rage when he hears that line delivered so casually, almost as if they were talking over the weather or commonplace news. He heard that tone before, back when Felix revealed his true allegiance for Malcolm Hargrove. When he spoke of the people of Chorus killing one another in their struggle, he used that exact same manner of voice. It was just how he was, carrying about only himself and the money. So why is it now that hearing his partner speaking like that provoke him so much? Why is it now that he held this feeling of… disgust, towards Felix? No, he always held resentment for Felix. This was something pent-up from the very beginning, especially when they were forced to work together. Even after they came out of the military, they always found themselves right beside each other. This turn of events was simply bringing those feelings back out to the surface. Yes, that's what was happening. He had never destroyed his emotions as much as he simply suppressed them, and they were finally swimming up to the surface after so long. Did that make Washington a wedge in the ideology? Or had he been a catalyst all this time? Did Locus himself really believe that all along, pretending that everything was perfectly normal?

“They can if you turn away.”Wash responds firmly.

**They can if I turn away.**

If he stopped his march right here and now, the ones he had started to accept as his comrades would not die. He wouldn't have to cross that line. He wouldn't have to kill them.

“You can choose to end this now!”

**I can choose to end this now.**

There was nothing stopping him from walking away. His enemies – well, one at least – were willing to give him that opportunity. Certainly, Felix would complain about it. But he could deal with Felix's mouth. He had been doing that much for quite a long time. It wasn't as if one more moment could possibly make any--

And then he remembers.

Felix was the one with the Key. If Locus left, Felix was still free to head to the Temple and carry out this massive massacre anyway. If he wanted things to go his way, he would have to pull his partner along for the ride. He would have to stop Felix, no matter how much the egomaniac resisted. He takes in a slow and steady breath, his hands tightening on his sniper rifle. He knew that the moment he refused, there would be a confrontation. There always was, even when they were working together. But at the very least, he had a chance to break the chain that tied them together and take out the thorn that had remained in his side for so long.

The idea of dragging a partner along seems like it was on Felix's mind, too. “No,” He states, placing a hand on Locus's shoulder. The gesture is far from encouraging or comforting. There is a slight squeeze, and if he had not been wearing his armor, he is sure that there would've been some pain felt. The message is clear as day, and even behind the helmet, Locus can feel the threatening glare coming from Felix. He has to resist the urge to scoff. The man was always calling him a lunatic, and here he had the stones to attempt to reign him in? “We can't. We have our orders. Right, partner?”

“No.” The response is automatic, coming from Locus's mouth before he can comprehend it. Once he registers his own statement, however, he doesn't panic. Instead, he turns his head to meet Felix's in a stare of defiance. “We don't.”

The grip on Locus's shoulder tightens. “Excuse me?” Felix questions, a little bit more of the threat coming forth in his voice. But it does nothing to shake Locus's decision.

“Did I stutter?” The green mercenary challenges, turning to face Felix and roughly pulling his shoulder from the other man's grasp. The words are hesitant at first, the mask he had worn for so long trying to get in the way. But once he starts talking, he found strength. “We don't have our orders. We have a mission. If these are the means we're supposed to use in order to accomplish that mission, then I'd rather go AWOL.”

There was one thing Locus liked about Felix. It was the fact that he could be so readable at times, especially in his body language. What he can see now is shock, demonstrated by his body freezing up at the words said. Then, a bemused shrug. “Locus, I thought we agreed on--”

“ _We_ ,” Locus cuts in sharply. “Didn't agree on anything. We never agreed on anything, ever since our time in the UNSC. The only time we've ever “agreed” was during our mutual business, and even those times, it was a cease-fire more than anything else. The only reason we're here is because of business. But now?” He took a step back. “I'm done with business, and I'm done having to deal with you.”

“Uh,” In the distance, he can hear the confusion of Epsilon as he and the Freelancers observe the two mercenaries. “Wait a minute. Aren't they supposed to be fighting us? Did I miss something here?”

Locus doesn't pay too much attention to it, for it was Felix that gets his attention – especially with his next words.

“You're joking. You can't be fucking serious about this!” Disbelief and anger are apparent in both sound and gesture. His body is shaking somewhat as he throws his arms out, gesturing to Washington. “You're actually listening to that Freelancer reject?! You're seriously growing a bleeding heart for these losers?! You, the guy who kept spewing all of that good shit about being a soldier and following orders?!”

“I'm listening to myself.” Locus answers, his voice cold as steel. “I couldn't care less about the people of Chorus. But I do care about the ones fighting alongside us, the ones you seem so insistent on writing off as collateral. If I have to butcher them in order to complete the mission, then I'm just that. A butcher. A murderer. A slave. The only thing that I regret about it is that under the circumstances, just walking away wouldn't be enough to get away from all of that.”

Then, he brings his sniper rifle up to bear. The barrel is lined up with the enraged Felix's chest, his finger on the trigger and ready to pull. “Drop your weapons.” He ordered. “All of them.”

There is a sigh of relief coming from Washington. “Well, what do you know? I guess talking can have its benefits, after all.”

“Wash?” Carolina questions in confusion. She doesn't know about the obsession Locus had with Washington, their “bond” being something between the two of them only.

Locus doesn't get a chance to pick up the rest, for his gaze snaps back onto Felix as soon as he heard him chuckle. It isn't a jovial chuckle or even a sadistic one. It is a bitter and angry chuckle, any mirth serving as much of a mask as the one he had worn serving as an “ally” of the New Republic. As it falls into laughter, the rage becomes more and more apparent. In the throes of his emotions, Felix allows his weapon to drop on the ground. His freed hands place themselves on his temples, his shoulders shaking with his laughter. For anyone else, it would've been a disturbing sight to see. But Locus is barely phased. He knew his partner was unstable, and even when keeping his “composure”, the lengths of his insanity was obvious.

“What the hell is this supposed to prove, Locus?” Felix questions, once he recovers. The sneer in his voice is impossible to ignore, and he saunters a few steps closer until the barrel is nearly pressed against his chest. “It's not like you can live happily ever after. Never mind the fact that there's a whole planet wanting our heads on a platter. Once Malcolm hears about this, he's going to hunt you down. He's going to kill you, tie up his loose ends and be done with you. And even if that doesn't get you, then I will.”

“I'd like to see you try.” Locus says darkly. “Now drop your weapons.”

Felix snorts. “I'm pretty sure I--”

“The Key, too.”

Felix recoils a little, as if surprised. “Oh, the sword?” He asks, as if the thought never occurred to him that he was carrying the thing. He lowers his hand to his waist, grasping the hilt of the deactivated blade. “Oh, my bad. Didn't know that counted as a weapon.” Here. Let me just--”

Once he has the blade pulled off to a certain degree, he attacks. It was such an obvious move, and Locus knows it all too well. Felix was always the deceptive one, willing to fight dirty if it meant getting the upper hand. He expects this attack, and his trigger finger tightens to its limit. But what Locus doesn't count on is how quick Felix's arm is. The plasma slices through the barrel, and the green-theme mercenary has to pull back in order to keep the teeth of the blade from carving a rift into his chest. His teeth grit in frustration as he sees the blade move again in an effort to cut off his head. In terms of close-quarters combat, Felix had the upper hand. The extended reach of the blade would do Locus in before his bare hands could even begin to reach the swordsman.

A miracle happens in the form of a precise shot, courtesy of Agent Washington.

The three-burst round pierces through Felix's sword hand, earning a brief scream of pain and causing him to drop the blade. Although both of them are as shocked by the intervention as Washington's companions are – he can hear their respective vocalizations – Locus doesn't stop to question it. Once he sees the opportunity to overpower his enemy, he tosses his sniper rifle aside and lunges in. Felix recovers quickly enough to block the first strike, and the two end up moving into a sort of dance as they clash. It is the first time in a long while, and Locus grimly revels in the fact that he has the chance to bash his 'partner's' brains in.

Felix puts up a good fight. Even with one injured hand, he's still able to move to block and counter-attack with lethal efficiency. But between the two of them, Locus was always the better fighter. Despite his efforts, Felix can do little more than defend himself as Locus presses on the offensive. The amount of blows Locus lands increase with each passing second, and it isn't long before the fight becomes one-sided. Felix's movements become more frantic as he attempts to regain ground, but Locus is too relentless. What little professional skill carried has been thrown to the wind, leaving the orange-themed mercenary fighting like a street hooligan. But even as he's getting smacked around, Locus can still see both the rage and the fear within his opponent's body movements. It is then and only then that Locus starts to see just exactly what the alien A.I. had meant.

_Isn't it obvious?_

A wild swing of Felix's injured hand, and Locus sees the opportunity to end it. He reaches out, catching the hand and giving a vicious squeeze. Not only does it earn him a yell of pain, it causes Felix to fall to one knee. Locus doesn't let up, tightening his grip to a vice and weakening his adversary further. When he's sure that the pain served its purpose, he raises his free hand and delivers a hard blow to Felix's head. Felix is left to fall on his back, but is unable to get back up to his feet before Locus slams a boot down on his chest. The winner stares grimly, and the loser stares with a look that would've certainly disintegrated Locus on the spot.

“You know,” Felix hisses. “I really should have seen this coming. I mean, why should any of this be a surprise? You're just like a leaf, going whichever way the wind blows. Our commander pulled you one way, Hargrove pulls you another way and Wash yanks you in yet another way. You're not just crazy. You're a whore, a shameless whore who's always gonna go crawling to the client who gives you the most pleasure.” Locus can't help but bristle with anger at this – something that gives Felix a bittersweet satisfaction. “Where are you going to turn next, huh? Just how long is this little truce between your fuck-buddies over there gonna last before you whimper on over to someone else?” Locus remains silent, choosing instead to pull out his pistol and level it at Felix's head. But it doesn't shut Felix up. “Oh, what? Are you gonna kill me, try to make yourself feel better? You wanna keep me quiet? Well, go ahead. Shoot me, you coward. Make me another number. Go on!”

“No.” Locus refutes. “I think the Federation and the Republic have better plans for you.”

Before Felix can even get a word in, he is knocked unconscious by the swing of Locus's boot.

The only thing to break the silence is the thunder in the skies. Locus stares down at Felix's form in a daze, his mind swirling with thoughts. This was a perfect opportunity to kill the man, destroy the juvenile mercenary and be free of what was probably the biggest pain in his backside. But as much as he wants to, he can't get Washington's words out of his head.

_No matter how hard you may want to be, you're not a machine. You're a murderer. But you hide behind the idea in your head, because you're too afraid to take responsibility for what you've done._

**Not anymore.**

His pistol hand goes limp, and the weapon is allowed to clatter against the rocky surface. He is only barely aware of footsteps approaching him.

 **I'm not hiding anymore. If this is the way to take responsibility for my actions, then so be it.** **This is the way it's going to have to be.**

“So, what happens now?” Locus's head slowly turns toward the group of three when he hears Epsilon speak. Although their armor and helmets obviously hide their expressions, he could tell that the A.I. and Carolina were regarding him with equal degrees of wariness. “Is he, like, on our side?”

He turns to look directly at Washington, who seems to take it in with less shock than his associates. “I suppose you've won this game of debate, Agent Washington.” He mutters. “I'll accept whatever form of retaliation Chorus has for me,” He gestures towards Felix. “And I'll make sure Felix is right there with me.”

“Right now, we need to get out of here.” Carolina cuts in urgently. “The ship the Space Pirates were using is going to come down and hit the temple at any given moment. We need to be clear of the blast radius.”

This gets Locus's attention right away. “What?”

Epsilon chuckles, albeit a little sheepishly. “Yeah. We had this idea to tell you guys well into the fight with us, but I guess it has to come a little early. When your forces were busy hitting Armonia, our forces decided to take your base at Crash Site Alpha, hijack the tractor beam and use it to crash that big transport into the Purge Temple.”

**So it was all meaningless from the start…**

Even if they had chose to fight their way through to the Purge Temple, it was doubtful that Locus and Felix would've defeated the Freelancers before the Tartarus descended. Their goal would've been stopped either way, and both of the mercenaries would've been dead before they could clear the supposed crash radius. A mixture of emotions swept through Locus right then, but relief at the Purge being less of an option and a grudging respect for the Freelancers for having the potential to outwit them were the primary ones.

“With that being said,” Carolina says, peering at Locus and raising her rifle to aim at him. Although her tone is composed, the threat is clear. “I suppose you're going to come quietly now?”

“There'll be no resistance from me.” Locus answers calmly, stooping down to squat beside Felix. He kept his gaze on Carolina. “But only if you'll allow me to extract Felix.”

“Don't tell me you're still being buddy-buddy with him.” Epsilon scoffed. “Not after what we just saw.”

“He has things to own up to, as well.” With that being said, Locus reaches over and grabs the body, hoisting it over his shoulders and letting out a grunt as he stood back up. He looks over at Washington, jerking his head to where Felix's sword had been shot to. “Grab the Key, just in case something happens.”

Washington doesn't stop to question why an enemy – a former enemy – was trying to give him orders. He sprints over towards the sword and snatches it up, holstering both it and his respective rifle. “I've got it. Let's get back to Kimball and the others. By now, they should be done with everything.”

Epsilon disappears, and Locus doesn't hesitate when he runs with the Freelancers. He has absolutely no clue as to what he's doing. Part of him is still saying that this is a bad idea, that it would be better to run while he still had his life. But he ignores it, holding to the idea that running away would be falling back to the sad excuse of the ideology he had stuck with for so long. Whatever issues and consequences challenged him in the future, he would face them head on. No longer would he be a slave.

This is where he would truly start being a soldier.


End file.
